


Something Found (Quinlan Remix)

by der_tanzer



Series: Lost and Found (Quinlan Remix) [2]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-23
Updated: 2011-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The road to recovery is long, but with the right companions, any journey can be a pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost at Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Something Found](https://archiveofourown.org/works/88801) by [der_tanzer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer). 



Murray was still walking slowly, bracing himself on walls as he moved between the cabin and the head, and not climbing stairs without a strong arm around him. It was four weeks to the day since he’d been stolen from the parking lot of the King Harbor Public Library, and he was still hiding out at sea. The Riptide lay on the hook in a bay off some island he didn’t know the name of, and it had been two weeks since he last saw anyone besides Nick and Cody. That was exactly what he wanted, but he wondered about them. Maybe they were getting in the mood to go home. He didn’t think he’d been very good company, but they were too much his friends to say so.

There was a knock on the door and Murray opened it, not turning away from the mirror. He was shaving about every three days now and this was one of them.

“You about done?” Cody asked, not sounding at all worried. “Nick’s got breakfast ready.”

“Yes, one minute.” Murray smiled a little to himself as he finished. The stairs were a good excuse for Cody to hang around but he knew the truth. He’d been behind a closed door with access to razors for more than ten minutes and Cody was checking up on him. There was no danger, Murray was confident of that, but he understood his friends’ fears. They must have felt like he was slipping away so many times those first two weeks, starting with his actual disappearance. He wished, for maybe the hundredth time, that he hadn’t made that mistake with the pills. Nothing was worth what that had done to them. It might be weeks or months before he lived it down, and it might be never. Someone might dole out his painkillers and watch him shave for the rest of his life. Well, there were worse things.

He washed his face, combed his hair and turned to Cody with a perfectly charming grin.

“You look good this morning, Boz.”

“Thanks. I feel pretty good. Are we having pancakes?”

“Of course.” Cody slipped an arm around his waist, careful to stay below the broken ribs, and supported him up the aft stairs. “Still tired?”

“A little. I didn’t get my pill from Nick this morning, though. I’ll have one after breakfast and take a nap on deck.” Sunlight was pouring through the salon windows, calling to him in spite of his sensitive skin.

“Sounds good. I have some work to do out there if you want company.”

“I always want company.”

Going down the forward stairs was a little harder and Murray clung to the rail with his free hand. He hated walking down stairs, ever since that man had pushed him into the basement of the house in the desert. It made him feel dizzy and unstable, as if he were going to fall headlong at any moment. But Cody gave him strength and he swallowed his fear, entering the galley with his smile still in place.

“There you are. I made a pot of that lemon syrup you like.”

“Hey, thanks,” Murray said, sitting down with a barely stifled groan. Both men turned to him with sharp looks and he pretended not to notice. There was a lot of that going around the boat these days. Nick sat beside him and Cody took the other side of the table, giving him a choice between feeling safe or trapped. Generously, he opted for safe and started cutting his pancakes.

“Guys, I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time to head home,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?” Nick asked, carefully noncommittal.

“Well, we have things to do, don’t we? I’ve been working a little, but nothing like I could do in port, and we don’t have any cases. Isn’t it time to pick up our lives again?”

“If you’re ready,” Nick said, still noncommittal. Murray looked to Cody for his input.

“We have things to do,” Cody said slowly, “but nothing that can’t wait. It’s up to you.”

“I know. I think I’m ready, though. I’d like one more day, but we could go home tomorrow. If that’s okay with you. I mean, you’re the captain.”

“Fine with me. We need more groceries and fresh water, but we’ll last all right until tomorrow.” Mama Jo, whose crew were the only people who knew precisely where the Riptide was from day to day, had brought them supplies and filled their water tank a few times already. A Coast Guard cutter checked in by radio every day, but they’d never made visual contact with it. It was Quinlan who’d put in the request for daily welfare checks on the Riptide crew, and he’d also asked that they not be approached too closely, though the subjects of the request didn’t know that. If they had, Murray might not had Cody move the boat so many times, creeping at night from one secluded bay to another.

After breakfast, Murray took his pill and Nick walked him up the stairs and out onto the fantail where his lounge chair was already set up in the sun. It was uncomfortable lowering himself into it, and pure misery getting up, but the time spent in it was wonderful.

“You need your hat,” Nick said. “How about sunglasses?”

“No, but I’d like a book. I think I left _Master and Commander_ by the bed.”

“Yeah, I saw it last night.” Nick went below and Murray covered his eyes with his hand to shield them from the sun. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a long sleeved over-shirt, protecting himself from the sun and hiding his scars. It wasn’t that the guys hadn’t seen them, or even that he didn’t want them to, it was that he didn’t want them to casually. He was protecting his friends in the last way he could, by preventing the random, thoughtless exposure that could interrupt any moment and bring any conversation to a halt.

“You’re gonna get too hot,” Nick said, dropping the hat in his lap. Murray put it on with a shy smile.

“If I do, I’ll go inside. Did you find my book? Oh, thanks.”

Nick sat down on the bench and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He was wearing nothing but cutoffs and deck shoes, already prepared for the heat of the day.

“Are you sure about going in tomorrow?” he asked quietly.

“Well, I think we should. We said a week and it’s already been two. I think if Cody could afford to live at sea full time, he would have been already.”

“Yeah, but this is different. We can get along a while longer if you want. If that’s what you need.”

“No, I’m all right.” He tried to smile and saw that Nick wasn’t buying it. “Okay, I’m not all right. Is that what you want to hear? But I’m better. I can go home. I might not want to leave the boat, but I can live at the pier again, okay? And we have things to do. I have to talk to my agent about this book, and call Mama. I sent that letter the day we left, but who knows what she’s seen in the media by now.”

“Cody heard from the Coast Guard that Quinlan’s talked to her. He told her it wasn’t that bad and that the press is blowing it all out of proportion.”

“Great, now Quinlan’s lying to my mother. I know, it’s what I would have said, but she should still hear it from me.”

“Yeah, she should. But you can still change your mind today. Or even tomorrow.”

“I know.” Murray pulled the brim of his hat down more over his eyes, thumbed his book restlessly, and then turned back to Nick. “Is it really me, or are you worried for yourselves, too?”

“What does that mean?” He sounded offended but Murray wasn’t fooled. He also sounded busted.

“Are you ready to associate in public with _that guy_? Because it won’t just be me that people are staring at and talking about.”

“I know that. I won’t lie to you, I have thought about it. But my skin’s pretty thick and I can take care of myself if someone wants to fight. And if you think I wouldn’t want to be seen with you or something, that’s just stupid. I’ve always been proud of you, Murray. I know I sigh and roll my eyes when people recognize you on the street, but secretly I’m proud of everything you’ve done.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Of course not. You’re so far over my head it’s not even funny and you think I’m going to tell you? No way.”

Murray laughed uncertainly, blushing darkly under his hat.

“But when people recognize me now, it’s just as likely to be bad. You can’t be proud of this.”

“Sure I can. We found you and you survived. It was a good day’s work all around.”

“How come I’m the genius and you keep out-talking me?”

“I specialize in rationalizing. I’m gonna go get my book. You want some orange juice or something?”

“No, thanks.”

“I’ll bring some zinc for your nose,” he said and got up. Murray watched him go, rubbing his eyes and wondering if it was really that easy. Out here it might be. The boat and the ocean were simple things, simply understood. Society was something that had always baffled him and probably always would.

Cody was on his way out to the fantail when the radio called him back to the wheelhouse.

“Coast Guard cutter, calling yacht _Riptide_.” A brief pause. “Coast Guard cutter, calling yacht _Riptide_.” Cody recognized the voice, the same young captain who checked in every time, and who had become known to him in a casual kind of way. They would never meet but they liked each other, as captains usually did. Cody waited, not picking up until the bored professionalism broke. “Yo, _Riptide_ , y’all got your ears on? Come back.”

“Copy, Coast Guard. This is the yacht _Riptide_. How’s it going, Roscoe?”

“That’s what I’m supposed to be asking you all, Cap’n Allen. None of you boys eaten by sharks yet?”

“That’s a negatory on the sharks. You ought to come by for a drink, Roscoe.”

“Wish I could, but we got all the partying we can handle here on the _USS Cutty Sark_.” Then his tone dropped into one of bland efficiency. “ _Riptide_ , confirm status of all crew and passengers. Over.”

“Crew and passenger status is A-1-A. We may be heading in tomorrow. Will confirm at next check in. Over.”

“Copy that, _Riptide_. Status confirmed, ten thirty-three hours. Best to the doctor. Coast Guard over and out.”

“Copy, Coast Guard. _Riptide_ out.” He racked the mike and went down to the fantail.

“Still flirting with Captain Roscoe?” Nick teased.

“Yeah, and getting nowhere.”

“That’s just because he hasn’t seen you in that hat,” Murray said. “Is it strange to anyone else that they just take our word that things are okay?”

“No, if we needed help, we’d ask for it. You might be under observation, Boz, but you’re not a criminal.”

“Sometimes I feel like one,” he muttered, then changed the subject. “What are you guys doing today?”

“I’m going to do some paint touchups on the foredeck,” Cody said. “What about you, Nick?”

“Trying to avoid painting the foredeck. How about you, Murray?”

“This, same as always. Cody, what’s a fo’csle?”

“A what?” he asked, and Murray spelled it.

“You know what you’re going to love? I’ve got a book somewhere of obscure nautical terminology, specifically relating to that book. Nick, if you don’t want to paint, you can help me find it.”

“Great, I’d love to. Searching every locker on this boat is much more fun than whatever I was going to end up doing.”

Murray smiled and Nick’s sarcasm turned sincere. Doing things for him really was still fun.

***

The long afternoon passed in the way they only do at sea. The sun crossed the clear sky so slowly it might have been standing still, while Murray lay on the deck, sweating softly beneath it for a timeless eternity. Every once in a while one of the guys would bring him a glass of ice water or juice and reapply sunscreen to his exposed hands and throat. The rest of the time he listened to them, moving things around below deck or talking in the salon. There was something for lunch, but whether it was on time or not was unknown and irrelevant. Murray loved this, being frozen in time on the vast blue sea, and it was that love that made him think they needed to go home. If he stayed much longer, he might not ever be able to leave.

“Hey, Murray, you want some supper?”

He looked up into Cody’s light blue eyes and tried to decide. It should be an easy question, but in the sultry heat of the late afternoon, he couldn’t quite tell.

“What are we having?”

“Sandwiches, macaroni salad. The usual. Come on, you’re too hot.”

“Am I?”

“If you don’t know, you are. Let’s go get you a shower, okay?”

“Why not,” he shrugged, letting Cody pull him to his feet. As soon as he tried to stand, he realized how oppressive the heat really was. Cody held him up, got him inside and down the stairs to the head. It was cooler below deck but not by much. It got better when he undressed and Cody turned on the cold water. In the privacy of the head, in the context of a shower, it was okay to expose his scars. Cody knew what to expect.

“I can do it myself,” Murray said, stepping into the cold spray.

“Can you?” Cody wasn’t disbelieving, just curious. It had been a month but Murray still carried deep bruises that worried his friends. Wanting to prove Cody wrong, he got the shampoo and reached for his hair. It was the first time he’d tried and his low groan told Cody is wasn’t going to work. “Your shoulders hurt, Boz?”

“Yeah, but it’s more my ribs. I can’t stretch. This really sucks.”

“I know it does,” Cody said, already stepping out of his shorts. “But it’s nothing I don’t want to help you with.”

“And I appreciate it, but it still stinks.” He stood still, head back, eyes closed, and let Cody wash his hair. It progressed rather naturally to washing his back, and then Murray turned around.

“Want me to finish?”

“No, thanks. I’m okay now.”

“All right. I’ll get you a towel.” Cody didn’t want to leave him like that, but Murray was entitled to whatever privacy they could manage to give him. What he wanted privacy from was obvious. There hadn’t been any sexual contact after that first night, and Murray went out of his way to avoid it. He allowed his friends to care for him and lavish affection on him, but it never turned sexual. Even when Murray was visibly aroused, as he was now, he still cut it off before it went anywhere. Men often got erections when they were touched, it was uncontrollable, and Nick and Cody followed Murray’s lead in ignoring it. No one, Murray included, knew if there would ever be sex between the three of them again. He was still trying to decide, and his friends were waiting to see which way he would go. The first time had been necessary, cathartic and healing, but they wouldn’t presume to say what he needed now.

The shower turned off and Cody handed him a towel. He’d gotten Murray’s robe, too, and leaned against the counter while the skinny man put it on and dried his hair.

“Thanks, Cody. I feel better now.”

“No problem. You want to get dressed or eat in your robe?”

“The robe’s fine. I’ll probably get all stoned and go to bed right after.” He smiled as if it were a joke but Cody wondered. No one could begrudge Murray the painkillers he took but they wondered if the dose wasn’t supposed to go down at some point. Murray never developed much of a tolerance for things and the drugs still hit him hard, but he wasn’t cutting back.

“We should call Gem when we get home,” Cody said suddenly. “She’ll want to know how you’re doing.”

“Yeah, I guess so. She didn’t want me to stay away so long, did she?”

“It’s not always about what other people want, buddy. Come on, Nick’s got a nice ham and cheese all ready for you.”

***

After supper, Murray took two pills and went to bed with his book. He planned to read for a half hour or so, knowing he could sleep through the night in spite of having napped most of the afternoon. But it was Nick’s turn to put him in his pajamas while Cody washed dishes, and Nick wanted to talk.

“You haven’t rethought the whole going home thing?” he asked as he slipped Murray’s arms into his sleeves.

“I’ve been thinking about it, but not rethinking. I’m ready, Nick. I need to try and face things.”

“That’s what we’re worried about. What if you try and it’s harder than you expected? How much can you handle?”

“I don’t know. No one knows until they try.” He sat down on the bed and took Nick’s hand, indicating that he wanted Nick to sit beside him. “We’ve talked about this, haven’t we? You know that I’m not going to hurt myself. Whatever happens, we’ll handle it together, right? Isn’t that what you promised?”

“Yeah, that’s the promise. It’s hard not to worry about you, though. You’ve always pushed yourself so hard and you’re not—you’re not strong yet.”

“I’m strong enough. I can’t hide out here forever, Nick. We have to go home sometime.”

“I never thought it’d be you talking me into it,” he said, laughing a little at himself.

“Neither did I. I never thought you guys would have this much patience.”

“It’s not so bad. You’ve helped a lot, being strong for us.”

Murray blushed and lowered his eyes, pleased that they had noticed.

“I’ve tried awfully hard. But things aren’t—normal, are they? I don’t feel as bad as I did before, but I don’t feel right.”

“Not right how?”

“Oh, you know,” he said vaguely, waving it away with a flick of his hand. “You feel it, too, don’t you? That things are—different?”

“Yeah, okay. I guess I do,” Nick said slowly. “But it’s going to be different for a while. You know that.”

“I remember. I needed a break from trying to be normal, and I’ve had it. Now I need to see if I can go back. I don’t think I can rediscover normal while we’re in hiding.”

“Just how much normal are you aiming for?” The question might have come off as cruel but Murray understood.

“A little. Walking around the pier, maybe. Sleeping in my own bed. And going to the library. I need to be able to do that. And I need to find out if I can look people in the eye when I talk to them. It’s easy here, with just you and Cody. But even with you, I’m not really normal, am I?”

Nick was a little scared, oddly troubled by Murray’s mention of sleeping alone, but he wanted to think about it a little more so he fell back on the party line.

“You’re doing fine.”

“Yeah, sure, fine. But not normal.”

“Murray, you never were normal. You’ve always been too sweet and smart and transparent for that.”

“Okay, so that’s the normal I have to get back to. I’m not pretending for a minute that I can be you. I just want to be me again.”

“Well, I can’t argue with you, Murray. I’d like that, too. It’s just that—I guess what I’m really worried about is that we’ll get back to our normal lives and maybe not pay as much attention to you as we should, and we might—we might miss something.”

“Like you missed the pills,” he said, not asking.

“Yeah, like that. I don’t want to start thinking you’re more okay than you maybe really are. Out here, that’s not such a risk. We don’t really think about anything else. At home, with cases and errands and all that trivial stuff we do all day, it’ll probably be different.”

“I know. I’ve thought about that. We’ll just have to do the best we can. And if it’s all too much, we can run away again, right? We’ll still have the boat, and the ocean will still be here.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But I want you to see Gem as soon as we get back, and we’re going to keep holding your pills.”

“Sure. But you’ll have to remember to leave me one when you go out.” He spoke calmly, releasing Nick’s hand and laying down carefully, biting back a groan at the pain in his ribs. Nick lifted his legs into the bed for him and covered him with a light sheet. When Murray looked comfortable, he sat down on the floor and rested his arms on the bed, as if meaning to stay a while.

“What makes you think we’ll be leaving you alone?”

“You’ll have to sometimes. You guys always go out together while I’m doing my computer work. Especially if we have a case, you can’t go out without backup. You guys can’t buy groceries without backup.”

“That might have to change for a while.”

“No, that’s what I’m talking about. I want to be normal, like that. I need to be able to do my job without someone holding my hand every minute.”

“You think you’re ready for that? Being alone on the boat, maybe even at night?”

“I have to try.” But his voice was shaking just a little and Nick took his hand again.

“We’ll start slow. Make sure someone’s home at night for the first few weeks.”

“Yeah, at first,” Murray agreed. “I’ll be okay after a while.”

“I know you will. You’re falling asleep now, though.”

“I know. Stay another minute, would you?”

Nick held his hand until he went to sleep. Then he went up to the salon to talk to Cody, leaving the reading light on in case Murray woke. It wouldn’t really be normal until Murray could sleep with the lights off, but that was something else that no one said out loud.

***

“How’s he doing?” Cody asked softly, not wanting to be overheard.

“Not bad, all things considered. He’s really set on going home and getting back to normal. Let’s go down to the galley. I need a beer.”

“Is he thinking real normal, or that Brando image normal?”

Nick didn’t answer until he’d opened his beer and had a quick drink.

“I sounded him out a little on that and I think he means real normal. If he’s kidding himself at all, it’s in thinking that it’s going to happen faster than it is. Like, he thought we might start leaving him home alone right away.”

“Really? Why would he think that?”

“I have no idea. He has a point though. We will have to sometimes and I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, I don’t either.” But Cody could see it happening. Being at home meant meeting expenses. They would have to work, and even if Murray was psychologically ready, which he wasn’t, his broken body simply hadn’t healed enough. “We’d have to ask someone to stay with him and he’d hate that. Being babysat by Dooley or one of the Contessa girls.”

“Uh-huh. Or having Quinlan check in on him,” Nick said dryly.

“This is going to be harder than I thought.”

“It was never gonna be easy. But we can do it.”

“Yeah,” Cody said, trying to look optimistic. It didn’t quite play and he dropped it quickly. “I keep thinking that everything the doctor said was—well—not wrong, but maybe just not right. You know, right for other people, but not for Murray. Like he’d just wake up one morning and be himself, you know? But that’s not going to happen, is it? There’s not going to be some magical event that just snaps him back to the way he was five weeks ago, is there?”

“No, man, there isn’t. He’s gonna get better real slow, like he has been, but he’ll always be different.”

“You sound like you agree with that shit he kept saying about being that guy. You know how hard it’s been to talk him out of that, and now here you are, saying the same thing.”

“No, I’m not. He’s not that guy, Cody. He’s still Murray. But he’s a different Murray now. One that sleeps with the lights on and jumps whenever he hears footsteps. We can’t pretend that’s not true or we’ll just end up hurting him all the time.”

“Why does it have to be this hard?” Cody whispered, the closest he ever came to whining about the situation. But even now, he wasn’t whining for himself. “Why can’t being his friend—loving him—be enough?”

“It is. We just have to love him a lot, for a long time. Believe me, if this was an old TV show and he had amnesia from a bump on the head, I’d be the first one in line with a bat to fix him up. But this isn’t _The Addams Family_. It’s going to take time.”

Cody nodded, reaching across the table for Nick’s hand. This was what made it possible. They could take care of Murray because they were also taking care of each other.

“Do you think he’s still asleep?”

“Probably. Those pills really knock him out.” Nick knew what he was thinking and he wanted it, too. He got up, still holding Cody’s hand, and pulled him to his feet, spinning him around and pushing him up against the sink. Cody grabbed Nick’s ass and pulled him close, already hard and eager. He felt Nick’s erection against his and arched into it, moaning helplessly. Nick held onto the edge of the sink with one hand and wrapped the other around Cody’s hip, jerking him forward roughly to meet his thrusts. There was no time for foreplay, no time even to undress. There was only time for this. The kisses, the closeness, the final perfect release of the tensions they shared. It pulsed and flowed and finally dissipated, leaving them sweaty and trembling in each other’s arms, but stronger for the loss.

Nick gathered himself and pulled away, stealing one last deep, sweet kiss. Cody sighed but let him go.

“He really is being a good sport about all this,” Cody said, looking a little guilty.

“Yeah, Murray’s a big man.”

“Do you think we can handle—sharing? Better than last time, I mean. If that’s what he needs, we need to be prepared, you know? And I wouldn’t mind being closer to him. He’s right here, but sometimes I miss him like we’re miles apart.”

“I know what you mean. But I don’t know what’s going to happen, Cody. We’re all just taking it one day at a time.”

“Yeah, I know. Come on, let’s get cleaned up and go to bed. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”


	2. Twelve Hours of Castaways

Murray was back in his lounge chair on the fantail when the Coast Guard called in the next morning. He smiled at Captain Hart’s banter and felt no anxiety when Cody got down to the business at hand.

“Coast Guard, status of crew and passengers is A-1-A, and we are preparing to return to King Harbor.”

“Copy, _Riptide_. Status confirmed, ten forty-one hours. Will you be needing any assistance?”

“Only if you know something I don’t. Over.”

“That’s a negative, _Riptide_. Seas are calm and the way is clear. But we’re here to serve. Over.”

“Thanks, Coast Guard. We appreciate the hospitality, and we’ll be sure to recommend you to all our oceangoing fugitive friends. _Riptide_ over and out.”

“It’s been an honor serving the doctor. Good luck and Godspeed. Coast Guard out.”

Cody racked the mike and stepped out of the wheelhouse.

“People sure like you, Boz,” he said, leaning over the rail.

“I don’t know why. I cause them so much trouble.”

“All the military loves a weapons designer. I’m going to fire her up in a minute. You okay to ride out here?”

“I’d like to. If I start to get nervous I can go in later, right?”

“Yeah, sure. You have your hat and your book?”

“I’m all set, Cody, don’t worry.” He gave his friend a snappy little salute and Cody went back to the wheelhouse with a smile. With smooth economy of motion, he flipped on the blowers, turned the key and pushed the throttle up gently. The engines roared to life and he throttled down a touch, letting them idle in neutral for a few minutes. Then he shifted into gear and nosed the bow up over the anchor, slacking the line before starting the winch. The tide was dropping, pulling the _Riptide_ out by the stern, and once the hook was free, he ran the throttle up and brought her around. Suddenly there was a breeze ruffling the pages of Murray’s book and drying the sweat on his face. He leaned into it, holding his hat with one hand, already thinking about fresh pizza and cable TV.

“Hey, Murray,” Nick said cheerfully, coming down from the wheelhouse. “Mind if I hang around here a while?”

“Still babysitting?” Murray asked, his eyes unreadable under his hat.

“I just want to sit in the sun. If you want to be alone, I’ll go sit up in the bow.”

“You’re not subtle, Nick. Go on, sit there if you want. I’m just going to read.”

Nick had a magazine, something with airplanes on the cover, and he flipped through it as if it absorbed him completely. But every time Murray looked up, he saw his friend watching him.

“Is there something on your mind?”

“A lot of things. But nothing we need to talk about right now,” Nick said easily. Murray shrugged and picked up his book again.

***

Fifteen minutes out of port, Murray asked Nick to walk him inside. He wanted to get his first view of King Harbor through the salon windows, seeing without being seen. But when people started waving at the boat, he knew they all knew. Of course they did. The Riptide had lived at Pier Fifty-six for years and it had just been gone for two weeks straight. Well, Murray knew how to hide from the world. He’d done it a thousand times without even meaning to.

His heart was beating too fast, but he smiled at Nick and held his peace. The note of the engines dropped and he felt a mild jar as the fenders hit the planks. Nick got up and went out to tie off the lines, leaving Murray to watch the harbor, waiting to see what would happen next. Cody came down from the wheelhouse, taking the long way through to the deck just so he could squeeze Murray’s arm as he went by. They had to do the basic things, hooking up the phone and electric, but five minutes later, they were back and it was officially home.

“Now what?” Cody asked, feeling that he’d done his part.

“Lunch, maybe?” Murray suggested. “I have some stuff to do in the office but you could pick up a pizza.”

“Yeah, and we need to do some laundry,” Nick said. “I’m about one day away from having to wear Cody’s stupid flower power shirt.”

“No, you’re not. I was going to wear it tomorrow. Okay, we’ll get you settled down below and then Nick can go get the pizza while I gather up the laundry.”

“And someone needs to go to the store.”

“Yeah, we’ll—uh—we’ll get to that,” Cody said, suddenly trapped. The most efficient thing would be for one of them to stay at the laundromat while the other went to the store, but they couldn’t leave Murray alone the first day back.

“It’s okay. No one’s going to bother me in the middle of the afternoon,” Murray said, reading his mind. He’d gotten good at that lately.

“Well, no, not bother you exactly,” Cody said slowly. “But someone might come by and you won’t be able to get up here to see who it is.”

Murray was trying to come up with an answer that would give them permission to go when someone leapt onto the deck and called ahoy. Cody went to the door to let Dooley in, already hating himself for what he was about to do.

“Hey, Dooley, how’s it going?”

“You know, rockin’ and rollin’. I saw you guys come in and I wanted to be the first to say welcome home. You know, ask if I can help with anything. How you doing, Boz?”

“Good,” Murray said, smiling bravely. “And there is something you can do for me, if you want.”

“Anything at all, just say the word. Your wish is my command, and all that jazz.”

“Thank you. I’m trying to send Nick and Cody out to take care of some business, but they’re worried about me. Think you can hang around for a while, in case someone comes by, or I need to go up or down the stairs? Probably all you’ll have to do is watch TV until they get back.”

“I can totally handle that. There’s a _Gilligan’s Island_ marathon on TBS. Twelve hours of castaways, little buddy.”

“Good,” Murray said, as if that was exactly how he wanted to spend the afternoon. “Now you guys are free to do whatever it is you need to do, confident that I will be well looked after.”

“All right,” Nick said reluctantly. “I’ll make you a sandwich for now, and we’ll bring back pizza for supper. You want to stay here or go below?”

“Below, please. I really need to get to work.”

Nick didn’t agree with that, but he was glad of the opportunity to get Murray away so Cody could have a few words with Dooley. Cody didn’t resent it, having escaped being the one to ask the favor in the first place. He made a mental note to thank Murray for that later, and guided Dooley out onto the fantail for maximum privacy.

“This isn’t a small matter,” was the first thing he said. “You read the paper; you know what he’s been through.”

“Yeah, man, I know. It’s just about all anyone’s been talking about since you’ve been gone. That’s kind of why I came over. I know I’m not your favorite person or anything, but I really care about the Boz and—well—there’s gonna be a crowd tonight or tomorrow. Everyone wants to get a look at him, you know?”

“Oh, shit,” Cody sighed. “All right, there’s nothing we can do about that. It’s a neighborhood, people are going to come if they want to. But Murray’s going to stay below, and you’re going to get rid of everyone as quick as you can. There aren’t that many people he’d want to see, and you know them all. Mama Jo, Straightaway, people like that. Although they’ll probably have better sense than to show up the first day. Quinlan might come by, and if he does, don’t you give him a hard time. Take him to Murray and leave them alone, okay?”

“Lieutenant Quinlan? You want to leave them alone together?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds wrong, but it’s okay. Just keep people from bothering him. And don’t let them stand around here and gossip. He hears everything. Maybe even this, I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I get it. But what should I do when no one’s around? Should I keep him company or leave him alone?”

“Ask Murray what he wants. And, Dooley, whatever he says, you do it. Don’t go bullshitting around like this is some kind of game, because it isn’t.”

“I know, Cody. You can count on me.”

“I hope so. Here, take this,” he went on, drawing a small, flat box from his pocket. “There are two pills in there. Give him one in an hour, or both, if he asks.”

“You guys don’t let him handle his own pills?” Dooley asked, turning the box between his fingers like a worry stone.

“No,” Cody said shortly. “And I have the bottle, so there won’t be any sense in looking for more.”

“Okay.” He looked at the deck for a moment, then at the sky, and finally dragged his eyes back to Cody’s face.

“Should I, like, keep an eye on him? I mean, even if he doesn’t have pills…is it, like, dangerous?”

“I don’t think so. But it’d be good if you could hang close. Don’t irritate him into banishing you if you can possibly help it.”

Dooley managed not to get offended and shoved the little box into his pocket. It was maybe the most responsible job he’d ever been given, and he was just smart enough to realize it.

“Yeah, no, I can be cool. We’ll be fine, Cody, don’t worry.”

Cody smiled thinly, not bothering to mention that he hadn’t done anything else for the last month.

“All right, come on.”

They went back inside, through the salon and down to the galley, where they could hear Nick and Murray talking quietly in the stateroom. It sounded like an intense but civil discussion, and Cody made enough noise to let them know he was there before going in. Murray was at his computer, looking calm and collected in spite of Nick leaning over his shoulder like a kindergarten teacher correcting a small child’s grip on a fat pencil.

“Everything okay?” Cody asked. Murray smiled at him and Nick didn’t, which wasn’t great, but was better than the other way around.

“Everything’s fine,” Nick said tightly. “We were just discussing how Murray’s going to get his meds in an hour.”

“Oh, no problemo,” Dooley said. “I got it right here. You guys don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Murray’s calm expression flickered a little, stabilizing so quickly that only Cody saw it. But he kept smiling, and when he spoke his voice was steady.

“Then everything’s settled. Go on, guys, I’m fine. Do laundry and bring back some real food. And don’t forget the strawberries for my cereal.”

“Right, strawberries,” Cody said, ignoring Nick’s withering stare. “Anything else?”

“Just the usual, you know. Nick, stop looking like that and just go already. You know you will, and if you keep putting it off, you’ll just get back that much later.”

“Yeah, all right.” There was no arguing with that, and they wanted to be home before dark. Nick kissed him on the cheek and Murray curled one arm gently around his neck, wincing at the pull in his ribs. Dooley grinned at them, knowing he was in on a secret, and said nothing. When Nick stepped away, Cody took his place and got a quick kiss for himself.

“Dooley’s promised to be good,” he whispered. “Let him help you, okay?”

“If there’s anything he can do,” Murray said. “Now go on, before it gets late.”

They left with many a regretful backward glance, like parents leaving their child at kindergarten for the first time. Murray wished those comparisons would stop occurring to him.

“Have a seat, Dooley. Has there been anything interesting going on around here?”

“No, not really. Oh, a couple days ago Quinlan was down here busting up a totally bitchin’ party on the _Walter Reed_ and this really big guy threw him overboard. Dude, you shoulda seen it.”

Murray knew how unpleasant it was being thrown in the harbor, and he had nothing but gratitude for Quinlan at the moment, but the mental image still made him laugh.

“I wish I had. When did the _Walter Reed_ get in? I’ve never seen it before.”

“About a week ago. Weird name for a boat, though isn’t it?”

“I guess so.” He was trying to remember if the Navy had a ship by that name and then Dooley was speaking again.

“I mean, naming a boat after the dad on _The Brady Bunch_? That’s just weird.”

“That was Robert Reed. Walter Reed is a military hospital in DC. It’s named for an Army surgeon. So I wonder if the guy who owns this boat is military or medical or maybe a relative of the doctor. That would be really interesting.”

“You could go meet him. I was at the party the whole three days and he was real nice. His name’s Doug, I think.”

“You spent three days on his boat and you’re not sure about his name? It must have been a good party. What else is going on? How’s Mama Jo?”

“She’s okay. She came down and asked about you a couple of times. I’m supposed to call her when you get back. I was gonna, but then I thought maybe I better wait and ask you first.”

“Really? Thanks, Dooley. To be honest, we were kind of worried that maybe people wouldn’t think of things like that. Like asking before they talked about me.” He flushed faintly pink but didn’t lower his eyes. Dooley moved his chair a little closer, as if afraid of being overheard.

“People are talking about you, but not your friends. Not me or Mama Jo, or even Quinlan. The people talking are the ones who just read about you in the paper, they don’t know you.”

“That’s—I’m glad,” he said, oddly touched.

“Yeah, in fact, last week Quinlan beat up this guy at _The Lobster Pot_ because he was talking some shit.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No way, man. Scout’s honor. I saw it myself. It was kind of my fault, I guess. I asked Quinlan if he’d heard from you and he was saying he’d gotten an A-1-A from the CG that morning, and this guy at the bar said something. I don’t even remember what, just that it wasn’t too cool, and Quinlan stood up and laid him out flat. It only took a couple seconds, but they had to call an ambulance and everything.”

“Really? Quinlan laid out a civilian in a bar because he, what, called me a queer?”

“Something like that.” Actually, the guy had said that someone ought to finish the job, but Murray didn’t press for specifics and Dooley didn’t offer any.

“I’ll have to tease him unmercifully the next chance I get.”

“I hope I get to see that, too. But, you know, Boz, nobody around here really cares if you’re queer.”

“Really?” he said again. That was even harder to believe.

“Well, you guys are kind of—I don’t know what. Funny, maybe. But it’s just you, you know?”

“Actually, I’m not quite sure I do. What does that mean, just me?”

“Not you, Boz, all of you. You’re, like, allowed to get away with stuff because it’s you guys and people like you. Most people, anyway. We figure you just are the way you are, like a family. Like, in my old neighborhood, people were always saying, ‘those Dooleys are just crazy’, stuff like that. The Barbers were farmers and the Yarboroughs were artists. You’re ‘those _Riptide_ guys’, that’s all.”

“And ‘those _Riptide_ guys’ are queer, but it’s okay?”

“Well, yeah. ‘Cause, like, you’re great guys. You work hard, you take care of your boat, you’re totally upstanding citizens.”

“Thanks, Dooley. That actually makes me feel a little better.”

“Cool. Hey, can I get you anything? You’re not supposed to move around a lot, right?”

“Right. I guess I could use a glass of water. We probably don’t have any more ice.”

“I’ll check it out.”

As soon as he was gone, Murray took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. He wanted to lie down, but the old cot was too uncomfortable still, and there were too many stairs between here and bed with just Dooley to lean on. But maybe Dooley could be leaned on. He was already doing better than Murray expected. He’d only asked Dooley to stay so that the guys wouldn’t have to, with no idea of doing anything but enduring him for as long as it took.

“You okay, man?”

He sat up quickly, put on his glasses and tried to smile.

“Yes, I’m fine. Oh, there was ice. Good. Thank you.” Murray took the icy glass and drank half of it without thinking. An iron spike drilled through the middle of his forehead and he closed his eyes against it.

“Too cold?”

“No, it’s fine,” he lied, fighting to keep from rubbing his forehead. “How long have the guys been gone?”

“About ten minutes. I heard ‘em leave while we were talking. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” But all of a sudden he wasn’t. “Dooley, grab that trash can for me, please?”

Mystified, he handed Murray the plastic wastepaper basket, expecting him to sift through it for something accidentally thrown away. Instead, he held it in his lap and vomited up most of a sandwich and a great quantity of water. Dooley stood back, eyes wide with horror, until Murray set the trashcan on the floor and laid his head on the desk, holding his ribs weakly.

“Should—should I get—someone?” he asked hesitantly.

“No,” Murray whispered. “Just give me a minute.” The cabin was silent as he sat there, taking shallow breaths, while Dooley watched. Nearly two minutes passed before Murray sat up and reached for the glass again. His hand was shaking and water spilled down his neck as he tried to sip it. He rinsed his mouth and spit into the trashcan.

“Dooley, were you serious about helping me out? Because if you’ve forgotten an important dental appointment or something, this is the time to say so.”

“No, I was totally serious, dude. Anything you need.” But he desperately hoped it wasn’t going to be taking out the trash.

“Go into the galley and get me some saltines. Five or six, okay? I think they’re in the cupboard by the stove.”

“Sure, no problem.” He brought the crackers and Murray ate them, nibbling slowly around the edges, while Dooley went back for more water. This time he sipped it slowly and put it aside after drinking less than a quarter.

“It’s okay, Kirk. It’s just the medication and the stress and—I don’t know. But it’s okay. I just need to lie down. Can you help me get to bed?”

“Sure. Sure, just tell me how.” He moved closer and Murray slid to the edge of his chair.

“Put your hand under my elbow, like I’m your grandpa or something. Lift real slow, okay?” He couldn’t help wincing and Dooley froze, terrified of hurting him. “No, it’s all right. It’s going to hurt,” he said, and finally straightened up.

“What else?”

“Just let me lean on you.” He put his arm around Dooley’s shoulders, smiling at his concern.

“Where do I put my hand? Will this hurt?”

“Lower.”

Dooley dropped his hand to the small of Murray’s back, below his hurt ribs and tender bruises.

“Thanks. Just go slow now, okay? And if I trip going up the stairs, try to let me down easy. Whatever you do, don’t try to hold me up.”

“What if you trip going down the stairs?”

“See if you can make me fall backward. Otherwise, you’ll have to go for help.”

“I’ll be careful,” Dooley said, trying to smile. They made it through the galley and up the stairs before Murray asked to rest. He leaned against the table because it was easier than sitting and having to stand up again, and Dooley stayed close, still holding him loosely. It was the kind of thing Murray expected people to stop doing after the stories in the paper, and though Dooley had never been his best friend, he was touched. After a minute, he was ready to continue and they moved carefully down the aft stairs. He asked for a minute in the head and Dooley, uncertain what his role here was, waited outside.

Murray looked pale when he came out and Dooley didn’t ask if he was okay. In the cabin, Murray sat down on the bed and took off his flannel shirt. His t-shirt was wet, too, but he couldn’t pull it over his head. He was wondering if he could ask Dooley to do something like that and not coming up with a satisfactory answer when the younger man solved the problem.

“Can’t stretch that much, huh?” he said, reaching around and rolling the shirt up from the back. “I busted a bunch of ribs a couple years ago and my brother had to do all this stuff for me. He gave me so much crap, it took me six months to get even. I finally had to crack his surfboard.” By the time he’d finished speaking, he had Murray’s shirt off and was laying him down, pretending not to see the bruises and scars. But he did, and they went a long way toward darkening his normally sunny worldview. “Hey, let me get your shoes off. There you go, Boz. You want the blankets?”

“Please. Thanks a lot, Kirk. I really appreciate this.”

“No problemo, really. After all the stuff you guys have done for me, I owe you more than this.”

“Don’t let me be the payment of a debt.”

“No, I didn’t mean that. You’re my friend; I’m here for you.”

“So how much longer until you hand over that pill?”

“Twenty minutes. Hurts pretty bad, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He put his glasses on the nightstand and closed his eyes. “You’re probably not going to give them up early, are you?”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to. But that’s not right, is it? You’re a grown man, a scientist and all that, I shouldn’t be in charge of you. If you want the pills, you can have them.”

“What about Nick and Cody? They’ll never trust you again.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he grinned and Murray realized he’d been wrong. Dooley was his friend after all.

He brought a fresh glass of water and gave Murray the pills. It was only twenty minutes, after all, and Dooley could remember how bad broken ribs hurt. He didn’t even want to think about the rest of it. Then they heard someone on deck and Murray sent him to check it out. He was only gone a minute before returning with the news that Lieutenant Quinlan wanted to see him.

“Cody told me to bring him in and leave you alone, but I just wanted to make sure that was okay by you,” he said, sounding more uncertain than Murray had ever heard him.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Let him in. I’ll probably fall asleep on him anyway.”

So Dooley went back up to the salon and sent the lieutenant down to the cabin where Murray lay drugged and helpless. If Cody hadn’t told him to do it, even Murray’s word wouldn’t have been enough. As it was, he stood outside the door and listened, in case Murray needed help. The poor little guy was so weak, so hurt and vulnerable, it was all Dooley could do not to go in and stand between them.

“You’re hitting the dope pretty hard still, aren’t you?” Quinlan asked in greeting. “You got junkie’s eyes.”

“It’s nice to see you, too, Lieutenant. Can I do something for you?” Murray couldn’t actually see him without his glasses, but he’d know that voice anywhere.

“I doubt it. I just came by to give you the news.”

“There’s more news?” he groaned, his glazed eyes widening in fear.

“Maybe I should have had that Coast Guard captain pass it on. I didn’t think you’d believe it without proof, but maybe you would have. Maybe you would’ve cut back on the dope a little by now.”

“What news?” Murray persisted. “Please, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Russell Todd. We were transporting him for a hearing and he had some guys on hand to help him escape.”

The last bit of color disappeared from Murray’s face and his hazy, staring eyes snapped into something resembling focus as he scrambled to rise. Quinlan realized he’d said it wrong and stepped closer, placing a restraining hand on Murray’s chest. But that was wrong, too. Murray bit his white lips and fell back with a soft groan, half-fainting from terror and pain. Quinlan drew his hand back sharply, then reached out again and cupped Murray’s cheek in his palm. The tenderness in his calloused hand was more effective than a slap and Murray opened his eyes.

“Lieutenant?” he whispered, squinting up into the sharp blue eyes. “What—?”

“Let me start that over,” Quinlan said, straightening up and taking his hand away abruptly. “Russell Todd’s dead. Do you understand?”

Murray’s breath caught painfully in his throat and he coughed weakly, wrapping his arms around himself to still his ribs.

“Right. Here, take a drink.” He offered Murray the glass of flat water and Murray nodded but made no move to take it. He couldn’t release his ribs until the spasm passed. Quinlan, feeling partially responsible, slipped his hand behind Murray’s neck and held his head so he could take a swallow. He coughed once more, spilling water down his neck again, and then drank what was left in the glass.

“I ain’t doing a very good job of this, am I? Probably should have let someone else break it to you. Anyway, he had a plot all worked out where his guys were gonna show up and take him away from his guards. They weren’t counting on us being able to shoot straighter. So he’s dead—has been for about a week now—and you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“What about his men?” Murray asked, his first intelligent contribution to the exchange.

“Some of ‘em are dead. The rest are in custody. But don’t you worry about another escape attempt. There’s no one left on the outside to try it, for one thing.”

“That—that’s why you came down here? Just to tell me that?”

“Why not? It’s my case, ain’t it? But I gotta get going. If you want to talk about it sometime, you know how to reach me.”

“Yes, thank you,” he said vaguely. “I—I appreciate you letting me know.”

“Just doing my job.” Quinlan turned on his heel and went out, nearly colliding with Dooley in the passage. There was a confused scramble and muffled curses that caused Murray to call out after him, afraid there was an intruder. But it was Dooley who came into the cabin as Quinlan’s footsteps sounded across the deck and disappeared.

“Sorry about that, Boz. I was just coming down the stairs and ran into the lieutenant. Are you okay?”

“I think so. Kirk, would you do me a favor?”

“Anything you say. That’s what I’m here for. To serve and protect, your wish is my command…”

“Okay, I get it. Can you bring the TV down here? I’m ready to watch _Gilligan’s Island_ now.”

“You got it, little buddy.”

It only took him a couple minutes to set up the TV and connect it to the second cable outlet that Murray had installed when he first moved in. Dooley stretched out on the bed and was laughing cheerfully in no time. The sound comforted Murray almost as much as the companionship did, and he fell asleep almost at once.

***

“How’d it go?” Cody asked as soon as he stepped through the door. He had two baskets of laundry in his arms and Nick had one with two pizza boxes balanced on top.

“It was okay. He’s been sleeping for a while. Let me get that.” He took the baskets and put them down in a corner of the salon.

“He’s not sleeping in his chair again, is he?” Nick asked, ready to be mad.

“No way, man. He’s all tucked into bed, safe and sound. I was a good little helper. Hey, you got more stuff in the car?”

“Yeah, tons,” Cody said, seeing that Nick was going to yell. “Help me bring it in, would you? Nick, you want to check on Murray?”

“On my way.” Nick slid the pizzas onto the table, dropped the laundry next to the other baskets, and headed down.

“So what happened?” Cody asked when they were on the gangway. “Did anyone come by?”

“Yeah, a bunch of people. Thing is, he got sick. Right after you left, when we were still in the office, he totally puked his guts. It was brutal. He went to bed after that.”

“Who was here? Did you let anybody see him?”

“Bunch of people. I didn’t know most of them. Couple of guys from some genius group and some girls from the college. And some of the neighbors, you know. Just people. The only one I let in was Quinlan. He’s still pretty messed up, you know?”

“Yeah, he is. It sounds like you did everything right, though. Did he take the pills?”

“Uh-huh. When Quinlan left, I took the TV down there and he went to sleep.” Dooley started gathering up grocery bags without elaborating. Cody thought there was more to it but he didn’t ask. He was thinking the same thing Dooley had, that Murray was entitled to a little leeway, that he was still a man and had some rights. But he had to bite his tongue all the way back to the boat anyway.


	3. How He Talks About It Now

Murray got up for supper and listened with interest to the news from town. Nick had heard a lot of talk at the laundromat, and Cody ran into a few acquaintances at the grocery store. They brought back stories about Ben Johnson fighting at _The Lobster Pot_ , and the break-in on John Gardener’s boat. Sue Trumbley’s dog, Strider, cornered the thief on her boat the next night, and he was actually glad to go with the police when they arrived. Murray was the only person on the pier that Strider liked and he failed, as always, to understand why the intruder should have been so scared.

“He’s such a good dog,” he said, shaking his head over his pizza.

“Well, sure, he’s never bitten you,” Nick shrugged. Then he exchanged a look with Cody, who nodded shortly.

“Um, we heard some other news in town, Boz. Just about everyone we talked to was talking about Russell Todd,” Nick said very quietly. “We saw some newspapers, too, and apparently—”

“Quinlan told me he’s dead. Shot trying to escape, just like in the movies, right?”

“That’s what we heard. Figures Quinlan would want to come over here and brag about it himself,” Cody said, shaking his head.

“Brag?” Murray repeated, puzzled. Three sets of eyes turned to him, surprised. “No, he wasn’t bragging. He seemed sort of—sad.”

“He didn’t tell you that he shot Todd himself?” Nick asked. “That’s a funny thing to hide.”

“He probably didn’t think I’d care,” Murray said. “But now I still have one question. Is this supposed to make a difference?”

“What do you mean?” Cody asked gently.

“Well, am I supposed to feel better now? Because I’m not sure that I do.”

“I don’t know. I hope you feel a little safer. But I don’t think anyone expected it to just fix everything.” Although Cody had, in a small, secret way, been hoping for just that.

Murray nodded, toying with his food. The mood became rather oppressive and Dooley excused himself a few minutes later, saying he’d come back tomorrow. Murray roused enough to thank him, and his expression was so sincere that it surprised Nick and Cody.

“You guys must have had a good day,” Cody said, when the kid was gone.

“It was all right. He can be a good guy when he wants to.” He pushed his plate away and drank some more water. He wanted beer but it didn’t mix with his meds. “I’d like to go to bed soon, if that’s okay.”

“Sure, anytime you want,” Cody said, too quickly. Murray pushed back his chair and Cody got up to help him. There was something oddly defeated in Murray’s attitude, something that hadn’t been there for the last few days. They went downstairs and Murray stepped into the head, closing the door firmly against his friend. He was in there for a long time and when he came out, Nick and Cody were both waiting in the stateroom.

“Is everyone going to bed early?” he asked dryly.

“Murray, is this another one of those letdown things? Like when the DA cut the deal and you got all depressed?” Nick asked in return.

“I’m not depressed, I’m—numb. It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s all over now.” He started unbuttoning his shirt and they stood back, waiting to be asked for help.

“Shouldn’t you be happy that it’s over?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t worry too much about what I should be feeling.” It was a hot night, August in California all the way, and he got into bed in a t-shirt and boxers. “You don’t have to worry, Nick. I promised, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. And I believe you. But you not hurting yourself doesn’t comfort me much if you’re wanting to and just not doing it because you promised.”

“Well, it’s all the comfort you’re going to get tonight. I’m sorry, guys, I really am. I just don’t have anything else to give you right now.”

“Okay, so don’t give us anything,” Cody said. “Let us give you something. What do you need?”

“I don’t know. Time, I guess. Sleep.”

Nick undressed and climbed into bed beside him. He touched Murray’s cheek softly, let his fingers trail down the vulnerable throat and across scarred collarbones. Murray trembled and then Cody’s hand was on his chest.

“No,” he said softly.

“No what, Boz? You don’t want us touching you?” Cody asked.

“I don’t want to go where you’re taking me.” He kept his eyes closed as if that would make him stronger, better able to resist what they were offering.

“Why not?” Nick asked. He’d been waiting a long time to have this conversation.

“I don’t know. It was good before, I don’t regret that, but—I don’t know if I can be a lover.” It sounded like an incomplete sentence and Nick looked to Cody for help. Was he going to say right now, or maybe anymore? Cody met Nick’s eyes and repeated the question.

“Why not?”

Murray looked at him then, his thick glasses magnifying his eyes into those of a lost beagle.

“Are you kidding?”

“No. I want to know what’s in your heart, Murray. I want to understand why you’re still pushing us away.”

He took off his glasses and his eyes returned to normal. Now they were just those of a lost scientist.

“I don’t know if I can enjoy it,” he whispered. “And if I can’t, I don’t want to experience that with you.”

“But you know that we’d stop if you wanted to.”

“It doesn’t matter. By the time I said it, by the time I knew it, the damage would be done. If I were ever afraid of you guys, I wouldn’t have anyone else to turn to. It’s too big a risk.”

“Okay,” Nick said, taking over from Cody. “So how do you see the future?”

“I don’t know,” Murray said thoughtfully, and they took hope. Then he spoke again and the small hope was immediately dashed. “I—I need to be with you for a while longer, but when I get well, I’ll move out.”

“What? No, that’s not…”

“What are you talking about?” Cody interrupted.

“It’s not fair. I’m in the way, keeping you guys from being together.”

“But we don’t want you to go anywhere,” Nick said, almost harshly.

“I—I didn’t mean I’d leave altogether. I’ll just go back to my room and things can be like they were before. That would be okay, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t hate me, would you?” The lost eyes were pleading and Cody squeezed his hand.

“No. No, buddy, we could never hate you. But you don’t have to go. Don’t you think that, if you just gave it a little more time, you might change your mind?”

“Yeah, he’s right,” Nick said eagerly. “It’ll just be a little longer is all.”

“But in the meantime it’s not fair to you.”

“We’re not missing out on that much. Honestly, we’re going at it every time you fall asleep, aren’t we Cody?”

“Just about.”

“Well, that’s reassuring. Look, guys, I know you’re trying to help, but I’m just not sure it’s right. I nearly ruined your relationship the last time and I don’t want to risk it again. You’re all I have right now. If I split you up this time, I won’t have anyone.”

“I’m not gonna argue with you,” Nick said quietly. “But I will say this. We aren’t going to abandon you, Murray. We won’t split up, okay? That’s not gonna happen. We’re all together. You’ll sleep with us for as long as you need to and we’ll figure it out.”

Murray drew the deepest sigh he could and let it out slowly.

“Maybe it is that letdown again. I’ve been trying all this time not to think about Todd and his goons, but when I did, I imagined them being raped and murdered in prison. Sometimes I dream about it, and the dreams should be nightmares because they’re so awful, but they’re not. It’s okay because it’s happening to them. Anyone else and I’d be horrified, you know?”

They nodded and he went on.

“I never really thought it would happen, though. Or asked myself how I’d really feel if it did. I never let myself think about him really being dead. Now he is, apparently, and I just don’t know how to feel about it. I’d hate myself if I were really happy about the death of another human being, but if I were going to make an exception, it would be for Russell Todd.” His voice was strong and steady, unmarred by a single quaver, but his eyes were over-bright and a little frightening.

“I think that’s okay,” Cody said slowly. “I mean, that’s kind of how I feel.”

“Really? Like you want to be glad but you shouldn’t be?”

“Well, more like I am glad, but maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“I don’t feel like that,” Nick said, shaking his head. “I’m just glad.”

Murray stared at him for a few seconds and then burst out laughing. It hurt his ribs and he curled in on himself, trying to hold them steady, suffocating on repressed hysteria. Cody knelt beside the bed, lifting Murray’s head onto his shoulder, turning him a little so he could curl better, and held him as his laughter dissolved into tears. Nick lay down along the line of Murray’s back and felt him stiffen as if to pull away. But he had nowhere to go.

They held him until he stopped crying, gave him tissues to blow his nose, and then Nick asked if he felt any better. Or at least different.

“Different from what?”

“From how you felt fifteen minutes ago. Or from how you felt two weeks ago when you were—let down.”

“I think so. I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“Yeah, Murray, it matters a lot,” Cody said, almost shouting. He regretted it when he saw his friend flinch, and kissed his forehead in appeasement. “I’m sorry. But it does matter. It’s how we know you’re getting better.”

“I am,” Murray whispered. “Different and better, both. But I don’t think I’m good enough. Can I have my pills now? My ribs are killing me.”

Nick got up so Cody wouldn’t have to break the embrace and fished the bottle out of his pocket. There was a glass of warm, flat water on the nightstand and Murray said it was fine. He took the pills and let Cody hold him until he went to sleep. But his sleep was marred by evil dreams and no one rested well that night.

***

Murray was bent over the table at an awkward angle, his back to the door, tightening a screw in the Roboz’s monitor. The ache in his chest was mild compared to the joy of being at work again, safely moored and attached to reasonably reliable phone and electric lines. Most of the bad things slipped his mind while he worked and he kept clear of the drugs so long as he could stand to, so long as there was something good to occupy his mind. Like installing a new processor in the Roboz. That felt good, and he wasn’t thinking about anything else.

He was humming a song, a silly thing he’d heard on the radio that was, so far as he could tell, a semi-serious philosophical pondering about the possibility of loving an angel. _I hear they have a space program, when you sing you can’t hear, there’s no air…_ Then a hand landed on his shoulder and he shot up, screaming. The screwdriver went flying, which was a good thing, because otherwise he might have skewered Cody when he spun around.

“Murray, calm down,” Cody said, his own heart pounding in his ears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Murray gasped, trying to get hold of the table before his trembling legs spilled him on the floor. Cody tried to catch him, saw him wince when he touched tender ribs, and dropped his hands to Murray’s hips.

“Hang on, don’t fall down,” he said, pressing the shaking man up against the table.

“Asshole,” Murray hissed, still trying to catch his breath. “What if I’d had a gun?”

“Then I wouldn’t be so embarrassed right now.” Cody was trying to lighten the mood but the words were too serious for him to have much success. “Do you usually have a gun in here?”

Murray nodded, letting his head fall to Cody’s shoulder.

“In the desk,” he murmured. “I thought I could put it away after Todd died, but I can’t.”

“That’s okay, we’ve only been home a week. And I’d be telling you that even if you'd shot me. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, Boz. I was listening to you humming, trying to place the song, and then I thought I’d ask. It just didn’t occur to me that you didn't know I was there. It was my fault, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay,” Murray said, but he was still shaking and Cody could feel his heart pounding against his chest. Without thinking, he nudged Murray’s temple with his nose, made him raise his head, then kissed him with the kind of intensity and thoroughness that had been missing ever since Murray stopped hoarding his pills. His fingers dug into Murray’s hips, holding him close, and after a long moment, the trembling arms eased hesitantly around Cody’s waist.

“Are you sure?” Cody asked softly. “You’re really okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just—just hold me for a minute. Until my knees stop shaking.”

“Sure, buddy. As long as you need.”

***

That night Murray said he wanted a shower after supper and asked Nick for help. There was something he had to know.

For the first time since his abduction, Murray seemed to be comfortable naked. Almost playful, as he let Nick wash his hair and work down his back. He put his hands on the wall in a gesture that would, in any other situation, be an open invitation, but probably wasn’t now. Nick couldn’t quite tell and decided not to risk it. He risked something else instead.

Trailing his fingers across Murray’s back, he kissed the slender neck and whispered, “What made these scars, babe?”

“Something leather,” Murray sighed, shoulders slumping as if a great weight had just been settled on him, or perhaps removed. Nick couldn’t tell that, either. “A riding crop, maybe. It was thin and sharp, with a metal tip.”

Gentle fingers slid around his ribs, tickling lightly, following the scars. This was how he talked about it now, answering one question every two or three days and refusing to speak altogether if they pressed for more.

“Turn around, Murray.”

He obeyed without question and Nick put both hands on his shoulders, drawing him closer. A little of the playfulness returned and Murray sank eagerly into the kiss. Nick hugged him against his chest, letting Murray dictate the pressure on his ribs but making sure their wet skin met in all the important places. He was surprised when the weight in his arms increased, that Murray could stand that much, but the injured man didn’t seem to be in pain. Even when he broke the kiss, he continued to rest there, his head on Nick’s shoulder, both of them half-hard and content to not do anything about it.

“We’re never gonna be together again, are we?” Nick whispered, stroking his sleek dark hair.

“I don’t think so. You’re healing me, both of you, and I appreciate it. I love you guys so much... But I don’t think that’s the right way to show it. I need you to be strong for me and you can’t do that if there’s any kind of wedge between you. You can’t blame each other, either, because it was my decision. It’s always been mine.”

“That’s true. And who knows? Maybe you’re right. You deserve a love of your own. Someone you don’t have to share.”

“I never thought of it as sharing. That was you guys. To me it was getting two for the price of one.”

“That’s why you’re the genius. Are you ready to get out?”

Murray nodded and kissed his cheek, almost as if he was saying goodbye.

Nick turned off the water and reached for the towels on the bar outside. He tried to wrap Murray in one and that broke the last of the near paralysis.

“I can do it, Nick. I’m a big boy,” he grinned, not sounding at all put out.

“Okay, sorry. But I’m never going to stop taking care of you.”

“I appreciate that, too.” Murray rubbed himself briskly with the towel, then wrapped it around his waist and went to the cabin to put on his pajamas. He felt strong in their love, secure from activities that might stress his fragile nerves. They understood, they still loved him, but they were willing to let go.


	4. Normality

“Boz, I’m telling you, you need more than an orange to get through the day.”

“Oh, I know that, Cody.” He was distracted, barely looking up from the monitor and not quite sure what the problem was.

“So come have lunch. Nick’s reheating the lasagna from last night.”

“What was that?” Not looking up at all this time, vaguely hearing something about last night. He’d been up late working after they went to bed. Maybe that was it. “I’ll go to bed early tonight, I promise.”

“Murray, pay attention. I’m talking about lunch. Food. You know, eating?”

“Oh, is there lunch?”

“Is this what happens when your bones heal? You lose your mind?”

“You’re the one who promised Natalie Valentine we’d find her brother by the end of the week. Now do you want me to do it or not?”

“I want you to eat lunch with us. Come on, Nick’s waiting.”

Murray pushed his keyboard away with a sigh, as if a lunch break were one of those horrors specifically forbidden under the Geneva Convention, but nonetheless routinely used to break enemies in undeveloped nations. He braced himself with one hand on the desk and stood up before Cody could reach him to help. They’d been back in King Harbor for two weeks and Murray felt like he’d healed as much during that time as he had the entire first month. The guys hadn’t really accepted it yet and kept trying to help, and he kept moving as fast as he could to prove he didn’t need it. Except when he did. Yesterday afternoon he’d tripped going down to the head and Nick had saved him from a nasty fall. But today he moved easily, at least once he was on his feet, and went out to the galley for lunch.

***

“I don’t know how I can thank you guys enough,” Natalie said, hugging Nick and Cody by turns. “Getting Ken out of that cult couldn’t have been easy.”

“Well, that’s why we get paid the big bucks,” Nick said dryly. They’d cut her a lot of slack on the bill and their week’s work was basically netting them a week’s groceries.

“If the cult hadn’t taken all his money…”

“No, don’t you worry about that,” Cody told her and got himself another hug. “That’s all right. Just take him home and feed him up. He’ll be good as new in no time.”

“I know, just—thank you.”

“Yeah, well, Murray did most of the work.” Their standard fallback when girls got too grateful.

“Where is Murray? I wanted to thank him, too. Is he around?”

“Yeah, somewhere,” Nick said vaguely. “Maybe in the office.” Certainly in the office, waiting for her to leave. He’d been friendly to her, of course, showed her his computers and gave her an idea of how he would begin tracking down her brother, but he left the schmoozing to his partners these days. Pretty girls had always liked them and it was easy for Murray to go unnoticed while he pondered his place in society. And, seven weeks after the library, which he still hadn’t managed to return to in spite of rapidly mounting fines, he was spending a lot of time doing just that.

“Could I go see him? I’d really like to say goodbye, at least. We’re flying home to Montana tonight and I don’t think we’ll be back.”

Nick and Cody exchanged a glance, both asking what to do and neither having the answer. Natalie mistook their silence for consent and was up on the aft deck and into the wheelhouse before they could stop her. She knew the way, having visited them nearly every day during the investigation. They went after her, resisting the urge to shout a warning so Murray would know she was coming.

“Murray?” she called, leaning in the doorway. He bolted out of his chair with a startled cry and spun around, grabbing the desk for support. When he recognized her, he was too busy waiting for his heart to start beating again to think of anything else, even the expression on her face. Her shock finally registered in his brain, and he looked down at himself in fearful shame. The office was so hot on this August afternoon, especially with all the equipment on, and he was wearing ragged cutoffs and a short sleeved shirt, unbuttoned to expose his bony chest. It was the first time Natalie, or for that matter anyone besides his doctors and friends, had seen him without his protective shield of long pants and high collared shirts. His first reaction was an embarrassed blush, and then he felt ashamed even of that.

“Hi, Natalie,” he said quietly, barely suppressing the tremble in his voice. “How are you?”

With great difficulty she dragged her eyes away from the hairless patches on his legs and the neat round burn scars on his chest, and forced herself to smile.

“F-fine. I just came to drop off your check and—and thank you all for what you did. I know it wasn’t easy and—you’re hurt, aren’t you? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said with forced casualness. “This—these are old.” He pulled his shirt closed and stepped into her tentative hug.

“I just wanted to thank you for all the hard work you did, rescuing Kenny for me and everything. It couldn’t have been easy.”

“I didn’t do so much. Cody was the one who went undercover and got him out. But it wasn’t a big deal, really. Not as hard as a lot of our jobs.”

“Is—is that how you got hurt? On the job?”

“Sort of,” he said shortly. His back stiffened and she knew enough to drop it.

“I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. But I appreciate everything you did. You gave me back the only family I have.”

“It’s all right, Natalie, really. I’m just glad we could help.” He relaxed a little, sensing that she was done talking about him, and accepted another gentle hug. She kissed his cheek, shy but needing to nonetheless, and he let her. “If you ever need anything else, I hope you’ll think of us.”

“I will, Murray. Thanks so much. Nick, Cody, thank you.”

The guys were in the doorway, watching in case Murray needed to be extricated, but he seemed to have it under control. Cody said something smooth and polite, and escorted her back up on deck and off the boat.

“You okay, Boz? We tried to keep her out but she got past us. She’s faster than she looks.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. She didn’t scream or freak out at least.”

“You really care what she thinks?”

“Kind of. I mean—not really—but—she is representative of a portion of the populace, and as such, I can gauge her reaction and extrapolate from that how others are likely to respond to me.”

“Sure, the portion of the populace who comes from out of state and knows you for eight days. That’s got to be valuable, right?”

“So you’re saying that even though she didn’t freak out, that doesn’t mean I’m not still a freak?”

“No, I’m saying who gives a rat’s ass what anyone thinks?” Nick asked irritably. “And you’re not a freak. You’re a beautiful little geek, and everyone who knows you loves you.”

“Not everyone,” he sighed, thinking of people like Smoke who had so easily abandoned him, and Quinlan who never liked him in the first place. Nick read their names on his face and wrapped one hand around the back of his neck.

“Forget them. People who can’t see what you are don’t count.”

Murray leaned into him, resting his forehead on Nick’s shoulder for just a second. Then Cody was back and he pulled away.

“I’m all right, guys. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. I think I just need to get back to work.” He offered them a cheery smile and turned to his desk.

“Sure, Boz. Whatever you say.” Nick and Cody walked out together, followed by the soft tick-tack of Murray’s keyboard.

“Is he really okay?” Cody whispered, once they were in the galley.

“Yeah, I think so. For now.”

Murray slept by himself that night, and though they checked on him several times, he always seemed to be at peace.


End file.
